I’m a gift goat,

A treasure chest in a castle,

Surrounded by a moat,

Don’t gloat, I’m the real thing,

This is not a reflection, of 22 Carat Bling,

It’s the real sting,

Thick thick bling, hanging off my chest,

Save the rest for later,

I’m the true creator,

A stile or a crater,

I’m the front man,

From the gold chest.

In my bullet proof vest.

See my drawing,

A genius thawing,

Next thing I’ll be boring underground,

You’ll still be lost, in the Lost n Found.

Your negative, it’s a negative sound,

But I’m Heaven Bound.

But don’t you get the story,

I’m all dirty and I’m all gory,

Invest in me, I will free you,

I will lead you,

To the Holy Grail.

Is it me or you that is stale?

Mate.

Cos I’m not so frail.

That was a lie. Do you get me.

Call me snake oil man, zero dot two,

I just see your skinny bones.

Save that heart, Team Zombie,

You’re gonna need it,

If you won’t heed the truth,

I’ll tell you straight.

I’m real uncouth.

I’ve got no red heart.

All I am is art.

A Hamas, or A Hamza-Tart.

I’ll write a story around your head,

I’ll wrap it around your gold plated bed stead,

My skull will never get bled,

Do you get me?

I’m a hobo, riding on your train,

Like on a gravy train, do you get me,

Mr Vee, I got real history.

I’m a parasite, on your side,

Eating into your soul man,

Even in my rundown van.

I understand Intellectual Property,

In a way that might be beyond you,

Like I see a hot tittie,

And you see IP, do you get me.

Innit Bruv.

You cannot own a tittie.

And certainly not in Romania,

Because it’s illegal Bruv.

I don’t think you’re such a legal eagle.

Like maybe a run over Beagle,

or a badger or a beaver,

All squashed on the road,

or bashed with an iron lever.

Cos words aren’t the same as pictures,

Unless you’re like Jesus,

Visions in the Scriptures,

Do you get me.

I can write a story around you,

And you can’t do nothing.

Like you have the turkey,

But I’ve got the stuffing.

Like I can’t defame your image,

But like was that a bite from a midge,

Or was that Mer Kin with the murder,

Was that really Bobby Shmurda,

Or was that just a hobo,

Swaggering on a girder,

Swaying on a train track,

Like a too old tightrope walker,

He’s just a talker,

Not even a stalker,

Needs something sturdier,

He’s down in the back grime,

Like Stan Slime.

Do you get me.

Like they're just words,

Spinning in the Aether,

Like a drunk man dancing with Aoife,

Or a dead man,

Too much grief,

Didn’t want to leave her.

See a zealous zealot wants it all,

Like a Hassidic Hebrew in Israel,

There is no compromise.

A zealous zombie is the undead,

All that gore and gunk,

It’s like funk town, like a gore gown,

Like a Gorgon,

As big as a Morgan Stanley,

A Gorgon with a Stanley knife.

Buttering with noughts and ones,

Like fresh cream on cream buns.

A dead zombie waiting to be rivitalised,

With Marmite, and the Vital Eyes,

Of Dark Eyes Jessica.

With her smooth Latin thighs.

Do you get me.

Or am I talking Double Dutch?

Or the Double Irish Dutch Sandwich?

Fuck that witch.

I’m a midge with a vengeance.

An elf with a mad dog.

Do you get me.

I’m a gift goat,

A treasure chest in a castle,

Surrounded by a moat,

Don’t gloat, I’m the real thing,

This is not a reflection, of 22 Carat Bling,

It’s the real sting,

Thick thick bling, hanging off my chest,

Save the rest for later,

I’m the true creator,

A stile or a crater,

I’m the front man,

From the gold chest.

In my bullet proof vest.

See my drawing,

A genius thawing,

Next thing I’ll be boring underground,

You’ll still be lost, in the Lost n Found.

Your negative, it’s a negative sound,

But I’m Heaven Bound.

But don’t you get the story,

I’m all dirty and I’m all gory,

Invest in me, I will free you,

I will lead you,

To the Holy Grail.

Is it me or you that is stale?

Mate.

Cos I’m not so frail.

That was a lie. Do you get me.

Call me snake oil man, zero dot two,

I just see your skinny bones.

Save that heart, Team Zombie,

You’re gonna need it,

If you won’t heed the truth,

I’ll tell you straight.

I’m real uncouth.

I’ve got no red heart.

All I am is art.

A Hamas, or A Hamza-Tart.

I’ll write a story around your head,

I’ll wrap it around your gold plated bed stead,

My skull will never get bled,

Do you get me?

I’m a hobo, riding on your train,

Like on a gravy train, do you get me,

Mr Vee, I got real history.

I’m a parasite, on your side,

Eating into your soul man,

Even in my rundown van.

I understand Intellectual Property,

In a way that might be beyond you,

Like I see a hot tittie,

And you see IP, do you get me.

Innit Bruv.

You cannot own a tittie.

And certainly not in Romania,

Because it’s illegal Bruv.

I don’t think you’re such a legal eagle.

Like maybe a run over Beagle,

or a badger or a beaver,

All squashed on the road,

or bashed with an iron lever.

Cos words aren’t the same as pictures,

Unless you’re like Jesus,

Visions in the Scriptures,

Do you get me.

I can write a story around you,

And you can’t do nothing.

Like you have the turkey,

But I’ve got the stuffing.

Like I can’t defame your image,

But like was that a bite from a midge,

Or was that Mer Kin with the murder,

Was that really Bobby Shmurda,

Or was that just a hobo,

Swaggering on a girder,

Swaying on a train track,

Like a too old tightrope walker,

He’s just a talker,

Not even a stalker,

Needs something sturdier,

He’s down in the back grime,

Like Stan Slime.

Do you get me.

Like they're just words,

Spinning in the Aether,

Like a drunk man dancing with Aoife,

Or a dead man,

Too much grief,

Didn’t want to leave her.

See a zealous zealot wants it all,

Like a Hassidic Hebrew in Israel,

There is no compromise.

A zealous zombie is the undead,

All that gore and gunk,

It’s like funk town, like a gore gown,

Like a Gorgon,

As big as a Morgan Stanley,

A Gorgon with a Stanley knife.

Buttering with noughts and ones,

Like fresh cream on cream buns.

A dead zombie waiting to be rivitalised,

With Marmite, and the Vital Eyes,

Of Dark Eyes Jessica.

With her smooth Latin thighs.

Do you get me.

Or am I talking Double Dutch?

Or the Double Irish Dutch Sandwich?

Fuck that witch.

I’m a midge with a vengeance.

An elf with a mad dog.

Do you get me.